


Hand Extended

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Codependency, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Hank always knows what it means when Charles reaches out to him.





	Hand Extended

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 12dayschristmas.

Hank was reading in the library when Charles came in. Hank knew he was there immediately – he always knew when Charles was in the room. He supposed it was his mutation, though he also thought that at this point, he would just know. He _knew_ Charles. He was used to the sound of his feet, the way he breathed, just the way he was. He just knew that Charles was there.

He supposed that he ought to ignore him. Keep reading, as though he didn’t know Charles was there. Because he knew that Charles always expected things from him and he shouldn’t let that happen. He ought to be trying to make Charles get himself back under control. He ought to be trying to make Charles stop drinking, not take so much of the serum. He ought to be doing so much.

But Charles shifted and Hank just knew that he would be hunching up on himself, that very slight uncertainty that Charles never used to have, scared that Hank was going to reject him just like he felt everyone else had and Hank couldn’t do that, he couldn’t, so he looked up.

“Charles?”

Charles looked tired and dishevelled. He was playing with an empty glass, turning it round in his hands. Hank wondered how much he’d drunk. Too much, probably. Far too much, just like always. He ought to stop buying alcohol but Charles would only go and get it himself. It wasn’t like Charles was incapable of shopping, he just mostly left it to Hank because ... well, Charles didn’t do very much these days.

“Charles?” he said again and Charles looked up at him with pleading eyes, then held out a hand.

Hank knew what that meant. It always meant the same thing. Charles didn’t ask for sex. Maybe he was afraid that Hank would say no if it was said out-loud. He would just reach out. Sometimes, he’d just curl up against Hank’s side and nuzzle at him, sometimes just walk up to him and lean against him and sometimes, he would just reach out his hand and expect Hank to take it and come.

Hank knew that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t healthy. Charles was having sex with him because he was there, not because he cared about Hank, Hank was sure of that. Charles had never shown any interest in him until everybody else was gone. He probably wasn’t even interested in men (well. Maybe Erik. But Hank tried never to think about Erik. He tried even harder never to think about Erik and Charles.) He was making a terrible mistake and he knew it.

But if he didn’t, what would Charles do then? Go away, feeling rejected and alone. Drink more, probably. He already drank too much. If he lost hope entirely, if he thought that there was absolutely no point to anything ... what would happen then? Charles might just give up. He might just die. And it would be Hank’s fault, it would be and Charles ...

(he didn’t want to think that maybe he quite enjoyed it. That he liked Charles needing him. That _he_ liked the sex. Because that made things uncomfortable and Hank didn’t like things uncomfortable. Everything seemed uncomfortable enough without that.)

Charles’s hand was still extended.

Hank took it.


End file.
